A family of our parish has donated the blessed gift of two original icons in memory of a loved one. One icon will be of St. Augustine of Canterbury and the other St. Brigid of Kildare. Once finished, both icons will hang prominently at the front of our sanctuary.
Icons are windows of prayer. When we spend time in prayer gazing upon the icon the Spirit of God may respond with the implanting of an image within our interior. Jurgen Moltmann in his book Experiences of God, says when we enter into a period of meditation, or gazing upon the icon, we are exposing our soul to the soul of God. Moltmann writes, “The meditating person submerges himself in the object of his meditation. He is absorbed in the contemplation of it. He ‘forgets himself’. The object is submerged in him.”
Spending time in meditation and gazing in prayer upon an icon can reveal much to us of our experience of God. We begin to see the subconscious archetypes, which guide our conscious actions. This kind of spiritual experience is akin to a vision or mystical experience.
St. Mark, in writing his gospel, uses mystical language in attempting to describe Jesus’ experience of the baptism of the spirit. Mark says Jesus saw the heavens torn apart, symbolizing the archetype of a major event of change in the spiritual cosmos. Then Jesus sees a dove, the symbol of the spirit of divinity. Upon seeing this vision, Jesus hears the voice of affirmation. Jesus’ life is in transformation and through his formation the world will be changed forever.
Then the Spirit drives Jesus into the wilderness. Wilderness is a symbol for getting away to find balance, harmony and order in one’s life. Jesus is in the desert 40 days. Forty represents a period of testing, which, if the test is passed, will culminate in the fulfillment of a promise.
What did Jesus do while in the desert? The Gospel of Matthew tells us Jesus fasted. The Gospel of Mark says Jesus was tempted, was with the wild beasts and the angels tended to him.
The things we know about Jesus’ wilderness experience suggest he spent a great deal of time in prayer and meditation discerning God’s direction for his life. It seems very apparent Jesus knew and prayed the psalms. I want us consider Jesus prayed and meditated upon the 25th Psalm we prayed this morning.
Imagine Jesus sitting in a circle he has drawn in the desert sand. Sweat is rolling down his face from the heat. You see his dry parched lips. His stomach is growling in hunger. We are close enough to hear Jesus whispering. He begins the prayer of the psalm, lifting his soul, his inner being, the essence of him self, his soul, to God. Jesus cries out to God for protection. He also wants God to recognize that he is waiting patiently for God to speak.
Then Jesus tells God what he wants. Plain and simple, Jesus wants God to teach him the ways of God, the path of God. Jesus, in all humility, desires God to be his teacher. Did God answer Jesus? Evidently, for when Jesus appears out of the desert he begins to preach the good news.
Jesus sets a Lenten example for us. Now, you may not go into the desert this afternoon, fast, draw a circle in the sand, and lift your prayers to God, though you could. But, according to our prayer book service of Ash Wednesday, Lent is a season for fasting, praying, making sacrifice, and reading and meditating upon the scripture.
I want to encourage you to consider two possibilities for Lent. First, you might to take up our bishop’s challenge to join him in reading through the Bible this year. The second is to consider sitting before an icon, prayer the 25th Psalm, and gaze into the story, waiting to hear what the Spirit is saying.
Psalm 25 could be a prayer for each of us as we move through the season of Lent – a way of gazing into the story of the icon, a way of being in union with God in order to hear what the Spirit is saying.
I am convinced if we collectively enter into the story of God, we will collectively hear the Spirit of God speaking. Amen.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Solitude, Consultation, Community
2.19.12 sermon Transfiguration Sunday
Preached at St. James, Westwood, Ohio
Mark 9:2-9
Fr. Jim, thank you for inviting to preach at your installation yesterday. Of course, I wasn’t thinking too clearly when I volunteered to preach today, being Transfiguration Sunday. A seminarian from our campus ministry sent me an email, having been asked to preach at his internship parish, begging for help. All I could offer him was, pray, pray, and pray some more. There are two days most preachers steer clear of, Trinity Sunday and today.
Several years ago I attended a three-day conference with scholar and author Marcus Borg. His book Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time, helped resurrect my broken and fractured faith. On the third day of the conference we were granted an open dialogue time. He was talking about his theory of Jesus’ pre-Easter and post-Easter experiences. Borg suggests some of Jesus’ miracles appearing in the gospels are the post-Easter interpretations of the first century church. In one my of more lucid moments, I asked Borg if he thought the Transfiguration story we read this morning was a pre-Easter event or a post-Easter story inserted back into the life of Jesus. “Well,” he said. “Good question. And really, I don’t know.” I don’t know may the only answer we can honestly offer.
Many times in our Anglican tradition we ask people to move easily from the intellect of the mind, to the spirit of the soul, and then back again. If we move too quickly, the transition between the mind and the heart can cause us theological nausea. And while as Episcopalians we pride ourselves in not having to check our brains at the door – we are also very comfortable with the mystery of a sacramental faith.
Catholic theologian, Karl Rahner said, “The Christian of the future will be a mystic or not at all.” The gospel’s story of the Transfiguration is indeed a narrative requiring the mind of a scholar and the heart of the mystic.
Our story begins “six days later”. Six, the perfect number of harmony, is the sum of its divisors. So, a perfect number of days later, on a perfect day of harmony, Jesus takes his three closest comrades to the top of high mountain. Three is of course the number of the Trinity. The four men, the number of mutual relationship, go to the high place, where God is encountered. Why do they go to the high place? To hear what the Spirit is saying.
Sometimes in our liturgy we use the response to the reading, “Hear what the Spirit is saying”. I think the story of Jesus the Transfiguration offers us an example of how Jesus heard the Spirit of God so we might follow Jesus’ model.
Jesus heard the Spirit in solitude, consultation, and community.
He prepared himself by spending time in solitude with God. Jesus practiced solitude. Jesus went into the desert immediately after his baptism to be in solitude with God. Often, we hear of Jesus arising early in the morning, to go into the desert to pray and be alone with God. Jesus practiced solitude. Living in the 21st Century, solitude may be difficult. But there are times in our daily times we might find solitude with God. Every morning I take a three-mile walk with Jesus – that’s Jesus my dog – during this time I keep my focus on what I might hear from the Spirit of God. Most mornings I don’t hear much, if anything, but, in those moments I do hear, the word seems clear. I think because I set aside the time to hear, God honors and speak. Jesus practiced solitude, so when he went to the mountaintop he was ready to hear what the Spirit was to say.
Once on the mountaintop, Jesus was in consultation with his spiritual guides, his spiritual directors, if you will – Moses and Elijah. Jesus sought wisdom from those with experience and maturity. Jesus consulted with those who walked the path before him. In the 21st Century spiritual direction may be most important for us as we try to navigate the erratic twists and turns of our turbulent world. I have been with my own spiritual director for sixteen years. Rarely does he actually give me direction – but the few times I needed it the most he was there to ask the right questions and make the best subtle suggestions.
With a practice of solitude and in consultation with those mentors in our lives, we are then called into community to keep us grounded with the faith. Solitude without community is isolation, which is dangerous. Consultation without a “community with a voice” could become a cult. We are called into a community of faith, our church, in order to hear the reason, grounded in the scripture, built on the tradition.
Every Thursday our young adult community, St. Brigid’s, gathers for worship, dinner and conversation. The question of God, about God, the reality of God, is always either on the table or in the background. The community is safe to ask the questions, cast the doubts, and rail against the establishment. Still, the community grounds the individual, providing a safe container for the question – ensuring each of us that God remains in the room and in love with us.
You have embarked on new life together with Fr. Jim. I don’t give advice, but I humbly offer some counsel. Find time to be nourished by God in solitude. Seek the guidance of wise mentors. And as a community, listen together for what the Spirit is saying. My experience has taught me, God will be faithful and your ministry will grow in faith and love. Amen.
Preached at St. James, Westwood, Ohio
Mark 9:2-9
Fr. Jim, thank you for inviting to preach at your installation yesterday. Of course, I wasn’t thinking too clearly when I volunteered to preach today, being Transfiguration Sunday. A seminarian from our campus ministry sent me an email, having been asked to preach at his internship parish, begging for help. All I could offer him was, pray, pray, and pray some more. There are two days most preachers steer clear of, Trinity Sunday and today.
Several years ago I attended a three-day conference with scholar and author Marcus Borg. His book Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time, helped resurrect my broken and fractured faith. On the third day of the conference we were granted an open dialogue time. He was talking about his theory of Jesus’ pre-Easter and post-Easter experiences. Borg suggests some of Jesus’ miracles appearing in the gospels are the post-Easter interpretations of the first century church. In one my of more lucid moments, I asked Borg if he thought the Transfiguration story we read this morning was a pre-Easter event or a post-Easter story inserted back into the life of Jesus. “Well,” he said. “Good question. And really, I don’t know.” I don’t know may the only answer we can honestly offer.
Many times in our Anglican tradition we ask people to move easily from the intellect of the mind, to the spirit of the soul, and then back again. If we move too quickly, the transition between the mind and the heart can cause us theological nausea. And while as Episcopalians we pride ourselves in not having to check our brains at the door – we are also very comfortable with the mystery of a sacramental faith.
Catholic theologian, Karl Rahner said, “The Christian of the future will be a mystic or not at all.” The gospel’s story of the Transfiguration is indeed a narrative requiring the mind of a scholar and the heart of the mystic.
Our story begins “six days later”. Six, the perfect number of harmony, is the sum of its divisors. So, a perfect number of days later, on a perfect day of harmony, Jesus takes his three closest comrades to the top of high mountain. Three is of course the number of the Trinity. The four men, the number of mutual relationship, go to the high place, where God is encountered. Why do they go to the high place? To hear what the Spirit is saying.
Sometimes in our liturgy we use the response to the reading, “Hear what the Spirit is saying”. I think the story of Jesus the Transfiguration offers us an example of how Jesus heard the Spirit of God so we might follow Jesus’ model.
Jesus heard the Spirit in solitude, consultation, and community.
He prepared himself by spending time in solitude with God. Jesus practiced solitude. Jesus went into the desert immediately after his baptism to be in solitude with God. Often, we hear of Jesus arising early in the morning, to go into the desert to pray and be alone with God. Jesus practiced solitude. Living in the 21st Century, solitude may be difficult. But there are times in our daily times we might find solitude with God. Every morning I take a three-mile walk with Jesus – that’s Jesus my dog – during this time I keep my focus on what I might hear from the Spirit of God. Most mornings I don’t hear much, if anything, but, in those moments I do hear, the word seems clear. I think because I set aside the time to hear, God honors and speak. Jesus practiced solitude, so when he went to the mountaintop he was ready to hear what the Spirit was to say.
Once on the mountaintop, Jesus was in consultation with his spiritual guides, his spiritual directors, if you will – Moses and Elijah. Jesus sought wisdom from those with experience and maturity. Jesus consulted with those who walked the path before him. In the 21st Century spiritual direction may be most important for us as we try to navigate the erratic twists and turns of our turbulent world. I have been with my own spiritual director for sixteen years. Rarely does he actually give me direction – but the few times I needed it the most he was there to ask the right questions and make the best subtle suggestions.
With a practice of solitude and in consultation with those mentors in our lives, we are then called into community to keep us grounded with the faith. Solitude without community is isolation, which is dangerous. Consultation without a “community with a voice” could become a cult. We are called into a community of faith, our church, in order to hear the reason, grounded in the scripture, built on the tradition.
Every Thursday our young adult community, St. Brigid’s, gathers for worship, dinner and conversation. The question of God, about God, the reality of God, is always either on the table or in the background. The community is safe to ask the questions, cast the doubts, and rail against the establishment. Still, the community grounds the individual, providing a safe container for the question – ensuring each of us that God remains in the room and in love with us.
You have embarked on new life together with Fr. Jim. I don’t give advice, but I humbly offer some counsel. Find time to be nourished by God in solitude. Seek the guidance of wise mentors. And as a community, listen together for what the Spirit is saying. My experience has taught me, God will be faithful and your ministry will grow in faith and love. Amen.
Installation of the Rev Jim Strader, St. James Cincinnati
Jim Strader’s Installation
2.18.12 St. James Episcopal Church
Westwood, Ohio
Thank you Jim for this humbling and gracious invitation to preach on this momentous day in your life and the life of St. James. Thank Bishop Breindenthal for allowing me to take the pulpit in your Diocese. I bring you all greetings from Bishop Kirk Smith, Bishop of the Diocese of Arizona. And I also bring you greeting from many young adults in our diocese.
Jim and I served time together as Chaplain’s to university students in Arizona. Sometimes, it felt like we were “doing time” together. I know many of you are familiar with Arizona due to our colorful politicians, most recently our governor and her wagging finger in the president’s nose. After all Arizona is the Wild Wild West.
I’ll give you a little historical perspective so that you can better understand the environment your new rector endured while in Arizona. Ohio is the 17th State granted statehood in 1803. Arizona is the 48th State granted statehood in 1912. The first parish of your diocese, St. John’s Worthington, met to worship in 1804. Your diocese was established in 1875. St. James began its formation two years before Arizona would become a State. In contrast, the first parish to worship in Arizona was in 1881, in no less dubious a town than Tombstone. I am sure you have heard of the gunfight at the OK corral? That may say a lot about the nature of our people. Our diocese was not established until 1959. As you can see, living in Arizona fosters more than a bit of the independence of adolescence.
Of course, living in a State where the average rainfall is six inches and the summer heat can easily rise to 112 degrees and maintain that for months without relief will, without a doubt, creates a desert spirituality within the soul.
My good friend Jim comes by his bit of the independent streak naturally. And he has earned the respected stripes of a spirituality formed in the heat of life’s desert. In our work together, I was privileged to spend significant time in conversation with Jim and I have learned some valuable lessons from him.
I have witnessed in Jim’s life the deep resonance of the words of the prophet Isaiah we heard this afternoon. “So shall (God’s) word be that goes out from (God’s) mouth; it shall not return to (God) empty, but it shall accomplish that which (God) purposes, and succeed in the thing for which (God) sent it.” (Isaiah 55:11)
When our life is in rhythm with the purpose of God, no matter the sacrifice, a “God type success” is experienced. But, we must remember, God’s definition of success and ours may not be the same. Jim has stood up for what is good and best about God’s unconditional love in the face of trials and tribulations. Jim has not wavered and God has been honored by Jim’s faithfulness. For Jim, purpose of life and ministry has trumped convenience.
I have also learned from Jim, while I must be true to my identity, I do not have to wag my liberty finger in the other’s face. Jim has shown me the witness of the power of authentic Trinitarian love.
In today’s gospel reading, we heard the love exchange of Jesus with the Father and the Spirit. In the love of the Trinity, we also are caught up into this mutual love. In the few verses we heard from the Gospel of John, the word “abide” was used eleven times. To abide, to remain in, to rest in the arms of God, to be in the presence of God’s holy love, to be inside the intimate love relationship with God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I have witnessed this in Jim’s life in some times when many would have acted in defiance or walked away in anger. Instead, he responded in the love of Christ while maintaining his authentic identity.
Jim has also taught me a vital lesson about out tradition. I have been reminded by Jim’s subtle persistent adherence to our Book of Common Prayer that we indeed stand in the mystery of the via media. Campus ministry is very tricky business. Chaplains walk the fine line between creating a very wide-open space in which young adults can be safe to think. While at the same time we must seek to nurture these young adults with our ancient ways. In campus ministry we can have a tendency to get carried away with being “new” and cutting edge. I learned from Jim that if the “bleeding edge stuff” I love to work in is held within the liturgy, then, a truly safe space is created for all. Jim, your ministry created a paradigm shift in my ministry. Thank you.
Purpose in ministry, abiding in God’s love, and living out the via media of our tradition are powerful anchors for any priest. Jim, thank you for being this kind of priest for me, for others, and now for the people of this parish.
St. James, your mission statement reads, “Saint James is called to be a center of worship and common life where Christ's love is visible and experienced in order to seek and serve Jesus in others”. Good people of St. James, it is crystal clear to me why you and Fr. Jim are such a good fit. His life and your mission are in congruence, in rhythm, in sync. Most importantly, Jim’s life and your mission are swept up in the Trinitarian weave of Jesus’ word, “abide”.
The key for both of you now is to remain in this relationship. Healthy relationships take commitment, work, forgiveness, shared responsibility, and a heavy dose of laughter. I hate to burst anyone’s bubble, but Fr. Jim does not walk on water, nor can he turn water into wine. He cannot feed all the hungry, clothe all the naked, give water to all the thirsty, he cannot visit all the sick, all those in prison and he cannot embrace every stranger – no – frankly, good people of St. James’, this is your job, together in partnership with Fr. Jim.
It is my humble opinion you could not have chosen a better leader. May you maintain your purpose in ministry, abide in God’s love and live out the via media of our tradition. In your mutual ministry relationship, God’s purpose and success will be accomplished. Amen.
2.18.12 St. James Episcopal Church
Westwood, Ohio
Thank you Jim for this humbling and gracious invitation to preach on this momentous day in your life and the life of St. James. Thank Bishop Breindenthal for allowing me to take the pulpit in your Diocese. I bring you all greetings from Bishop Kirk Smith, Bishop of the Diocese of Arizona. And I also bring you greeting from many young adults in our diocese.
Jim and I served time together as Chaplain’s to university students in Arizona. Sometimes, it felt like we were “doing time” together. I know many of you are familiar with Arizona due to our colorful politicians, most recently our governor and her wagging finger in the president’s nose. After all Arizona is the Wild Wild West.
I’ll give you a little historical perspective so that you can better understand the environment your new rector endured while in Arizona. Ohio is the 17th State granted statehood in 1803. Arizona is the 48th State granted statehood in 1912. The first parish of your diocese, St. John’s Worthington, met to worship in 1804. Your diocese was established in 1875. St. James began its formation two years before Arizona would become a State. In contrast, the first parish to worship in Arizona was in 1881, in no less dubious a town than Tombstone. I am sure you have heard of the gunfight at the OK corral? That may say a lot about the nature of our people. Our diocese was not established until 1959. As you can see, living in Arizona fosters more than a bit of the independence of adolescence.
Of course, living in a State where the average rainfall is six inches and the summer heat can easily rise to 112 degrees and maintain that for months without relief will, without a doubt, creates a desert spirituality within the soul.
My good friend Jim comes by his bit of the independent streak naturally. And he has earned the respected stripes of a spirituality formed in the heat of life’s desert. In our work together, I was privileged to spend significant time in conversation with Jim and I have learned some valuable lessons from him.
I have witnessed in Jim’s life the deep resonance of the words of the prophet Isaiah we heard this afternoon. “So shall (God’s) word be that goes out from (God’s) mouth; it shall not return to (God) empty, but it shall accomplish that which (God) purposes, and succeed in the thing for which (God) sent it.” (Isaiah 55:11)
When our life is in rhythm with the purpose of God, no matter the sacrifice, a “God type success” is experienced. But, we must remember, God’s definition of success and ours may not be the same. Jim has stood up for what is good and best about God’s unconditional love in the face of trials and tribulations. Jim has not wavered and God has been honored by Jim’s faithfulness. For Jim, purpose of life and ministry has trumped convenience.
I have also learned from Jim, while I must be true to my identity, I do not have to wag my liberty finger in the other’s face. Jim has shown me the witness of the power of authentic Trinitarian love.
In today’s gospel reading, we heard the love exchange of Jesus with the Father and the Spirit. In the love of the Trinity, we also are caught up into this mutual love. In the few verses we heard from the Gospel of John, the word “abide” was used eleven times. To abide, to remain in, to rest in the arms of God, to be in the presence of God’s holy love, to be inside the intimate love relationship with God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I have witnessed this in Jim’s life in some times when many would have acted in defiance or walked away in anger. Instead, he responded in the love of Christ while maintaining his authentic identity.
Jim has also taught me a vital lesson about out tradition. I have been reminded by Jim’s subtle persistent adherence to our Book of Common Prayer that we indeed stand in the mystery of the via media. Campus ministry is very tricky business. Chaplains walk the fine line between creating a very wide-open space in which young adults can be safe to think. While at the same time we must seek to nurture these young adults with our ancient ways. In campus ministry we can have a tendency to get carried away with being “new” and cutting edge. I learned from Jim that if the “bleeding edge stuff” I love to work in is held within the liturgy, then, a truly safe space is created for all. Jim, your ministry created a paradigm shift in my ministry. Thank you.
Purpose in ministry, abiding in God’s love, and living out the via media of our tradition are powerful anchors for any priest. Jim, thank you for being this kind of priest for me, for others, and now for the people of this parish.
St. James, your mission statement reads, “Saint James is called to be a center of worship and common life where Christ's love is visible and experienced in order to seek and serve Jesus in others”. Good people of St. James, it is crystal clear to me why you and Fr. Jim are such a good fit. His life and your mission are in congruence, in rhythm, in sync. Most importantly, Jim’s life and your mission are swept up in the Trinitarian weave of Jesus’ word, “abide”.
The key for both of you now is to remain in this relationship. Healthy relationships take commitment, work, forgiveness, shared responsibility, and a heavy dose of laughter. I hate to burst anyone’s bubble, but Fr. Jim does not walk on water, nor can he turn water into wine. He cannot feed all the hungry, clothe all the naked, give water to all the thirsty, he cannot visit all the sick, all those in prison and he cannot embrace every stranger – no – frankly, good people of St. James’, this is your job, together in partnership with Fr. Jim.
It is my humble opinion you could not have chosen a better leader. May you maintain your purpose in ministry, abide in God’s love and live out the via media of our tradition. In your mutual ministry relationship, God’s purpose and success will be accomplished. Amen.
Monday, February 13, 2012
The Long Road to Healing
Every fiber of my being wants to avoid preaching on this morning’s readings. The stories of healing in II Kings and Mark are accentuated with the psalm’s exclamation, “O Lord, I cried to you for help and you have healed me”. And yet, miraculous healing seems to be outside our grasp.
We have sat with parents who have lost a child. We have prayed with those suffering terminal illness. We have agonized with those hurting from emotional pain. We have watched the ravaging destruction of joblessness. We have witnessed the seemingly hopeless pain of homelessness. Our prayers are lifted to God and yet there is little evidence of an immediate salvation.
Suffering and pain surround every one us. Each of us personally knows at least one person who is suffering and desires to be healed. Some of us could produce long lists of people in our lives that daily seek our pray to be touched by the healing hand of God. We pray, still there is no immediate healing.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if a suffering person could call our church and we formed a team of prayerful people who would encircle that person and the person would be healed - instantly?
Ah, there is the word, isn’t it, “instantly”. We cannot be blamed, nor should we feel ashamed for wanting the suffering of our loved ones and friends to end immediately. But, my experienced has led me to believe that suffering and the need for healing goes so much deeper than the immediate relief of pain.
Our suffering is real and encompasses our mind, body and spirit. We suffer physically, mentally and spiritually. However, healing the body does not ensure that healing will be complete in the mind or the spirit. Healing of the mind will not guarantee a healing of the spirit or the body. And, these are the hardest words to say - the healing of the spirit will not automatically heal the mind or the body. It appears, suffering is part of the human condition.
Is the possibility of healing a hopeless dream? The answer is no, healing is not hopeless – but it is a process that takes time. We must be willing to give into the process and allow the time necessary for healing to take place in our mind, body, and spirit; realizing that while one aspect of our being may suffer, healing is still possible.
In the story of Naaman, we get a glimpse of the arduous process of healing.
Naaman is a powerful and successful military leader who has the ear of the king. He appears to have everything in life, fame, money, and power. There is only one problem. He has leprosy. Sooner or later, Naaman’s disease will bring an end to what makes his life perfect. Long before his life ends he will be banished from his family and his community. He will eventually spend his life in a colony, alone, with others who also have been declared “unclean”. He will die a miserable death, alone.
A young slave girl in Namaan’s home tells her master about the prophet Elisha, a mystic healer in her homeland of Israel. Namaan, desiring to be healed, tells his king. The king sends Namaan to the king of Israel with a letter asking for Naaman’s healing. Obviously, Namaan’s king believed that only kings had the power to heal. Namaan, misunderstanding the process, took his great wealth in order to buy healing. The king of Israel misinterpreted the letter for healing to be an attempt to insight war. So far in the story the young girl is the only one who has a clear idea of what it takes to be healed – you must see the prophet. Everyone else is operating from their own perspective – power, wealth, and politics.
Finally, Naaman is directed to the prophet Elisha. Elisha is the disciple of the great prophet Elijah. Elisha is a mystic who uses music to induce the prophetic trance. He is a healer and miracle worker. Through Elisha’s miracles, the people are shown God’s power over the natural order as well as God’s power in the socio-economic dimensions of daily life. Eventually, Elisha’s work drives the apostate monarchy of Israel back into the arms of God.
Naaman goes to the home of Elisha expecting the prophet to come outside and greet the great warrior. Instead, Elisha sends a servant to Naaman, telling him to dip himself in the Jordon seven times. Naaman is insulted by Elisha’s lack of personal attention. In anger, Naaman intends to return home. But, a servant convinces Naaman to at least give the water treatment a try.
The number seven is important in this story. The number seven is rich in symbolism from the beginning of the biblical story to the end. Seven represents mystery, wisdom, and completeness. Seven is the largest whole number, indivisible by any other number except one. Seven is the sum of one, the great monad, and six, the perfect number. Seven is also the sum of three, the harmony of the trinity and four the number of reciprocal relationships.
In the story of Naaman, seven represents the work needed in the healing process. Healing requires the work of God, the work of the community and the work of the individual. Healing takes repeated work. That work includes at the least daily prayer, regular spiritual direction, and consistent study of the scripture. Healing is not a one time, one-day event. Healing is a long process requiring humility and patience.
Earlier, I said, how it would be wonderful if a suffering person could call our church and we formed a team of prayerful people who would encircle the person and they would be healed instantly? Well, I believe we do have that team of people, but the healing is not instant – it takes time, a lot of time, sometimes years and sometimes we will never see the healing completed.
In our parish, we have witnessed the process of these healing prayers from our Mourner’s Path Ministry, the Daughters of the King, our Community of Compassion and our healing services. Many of these are ministries led by the laity. These ministries are impacting the daily life of dozens of people in and outside our parish every day. These ministries are working in the process of healing the suffering of the mind, body, and spirit. These ministries are working in partnership with God and the individual.
Our parish dares to reach out with a healing ministry. Yet, we are not miracle workers. We never suggest that our healing ministry will instantly bring about a cure, heal a troubled mind, or save a lost soul. What we offer is the love of God, the prayer of the people and encouraging words for suffering people to participate in their own healing. Indeed, hard, but worthwhile work. You can receive the prayer needed for healing simply by asking. And you can become a part of our healing ministries by volunteering your time for training and service. Listen to what the Spirit is saying to you. For, I believe we can cry out, “O Lord, I cried to you for help and you healed me,” because we have seen the evidence of such healing in our midst. Amen.
We have sat with parents who have lost a child. We have prayed with those suffering terminal illness. We have agonized with those hurting from emotional pain. We have watched the ravaging destruction of joblessness. We have witnessed the seemingly hopeless pain of homelessness. Our prayers are lifted to God and yet there is little evidence of an immediate salvation.
Suffering and pain surround every one us. Each of us personally knows at least one person who is suffering and desires to be healed. Some of us could produce long lists of people in our lives that daily seek our pray to be touched by the healing hand of God. We pray, still there is no immediate healing.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if a suffering person could call our church and we formed a team of prayerful people who would encircle that person and the person would be healed - instantly?
Ah, there is the word, isn’t it, “instantly”. We cannot be blamed, nor should we feel ashamed for wanting the suffering of our loved ones and friends to end immediately. But, my experienced has led me to believe that suffering and the need for healing goes so much deeper than the immediate relief of pain.
Our suffering is real and encompasses our mind, body and spirit. We suffer physically, mentally and spiritually. However, healing the body does not ensure that healing will be complete in the mind or the spirit. Healing of the mind will not guarantee a healing of the spirit or the body. And, these are the hardest words to say - the healing of the spirit will not automatically heal the mind or the body. It appears, suffering is part of the human condition.
Is the possibility of healing a hopeless dream? The answer is no, healing is not hopeless – but it is a process that takes time. We must be willing to give into the process and allow the time necessary for healing to take place in our mind, body, and spirit; realizing that while one aspect of our being may suffer, healing is still possible.
In the story of Naaman, we get a glimpse of the arduous process of healing.
Naaman is a powerful and successful military leader who has the ear of the king. He appears to have everything in life, fame, money, and power. There is only one problem. He has leprosy. Sooner or later, Naaman’s disease will bring an end to what makes his life perfect. Long before his life ends he will be banished from his family and his community. He will eventually spend his life in a colony, alone, with others who also have been declared “unclean”. He will die a miserable death, alone.
A young slave girl in Namaan’s home tells her master about the prophet Elisha, a mystic healer in her homeland of Israel. Namaan, desiring to be healed, tells his king. The king sends Namaan to the king of Israel with a letter asking for Naaman’s healing. Obviously, Namaan’s king believed that only kings had the power to heal. Namaan, misunderstanding the process, took his great wealth in order to buy healing. The king of Israel misinterpreted the letter for healing to be an attempt to insight war. So far in the story the young girl is the only one who has a clear idea of what it takes to be healed – you must see the prophet. Everyone else is operating from their own perspective – power, wealth, and politics.
Finally, Naaman is directed to the prophet Elisha. Elisha is the disciple of the great prophet Elijah. Elisha is a mystic who uses music to induce the prophetic trance. He is a healer and miracle worker. Through Elisha’s miracles, the people are shown God’s power over the natural order as well as God’s power in the socio-economic dimensions of daily life. Eventually, Elisha’s work drives the apostate monarchy of Israel back into the arms of God.
Naaman goes to the home of Elisha expecting the prophet to come outside and greet the great warrior. Instead, Elisha sends a servant to Naaman, telling him to dip himself in the Jordon seven times. Naaman is insulted by Elisha’s lack of personal attention. In anger, Naaman intends to return home. But, a servant convinces Naaman to at least give the water treatment a try.
The number seven is important in this story. The number seven is rich in symbolism from the beginning of the biblical story to the end. Seven represents mystery, wisdom, and completeness. Seven is the largest whole number, indivisible by any other number except one. Seven is the sum of one, the great monad, and six, the perfect number. Seven is also the sum of three, the harmony of the trinity and four the number of reciprocal relationships.
In the story of Naaman, seven represents the work needed in the healing process. Healing requires the work of God, the work of the community and the work of the individual. Healing takes repeated work. That work includes at the least daily prayer, regular spiritual direction, and consistent study of the scripture. Healing is not a one time, one-day event. Healing is a long process requiring humility and patience.
Earlier, I said, how it would be wonderful if a suffering person could call our church and we formed a team of prayerful people who would encircle the person and they would be healed instantly? Well, I believe we do have that team of people, but the healing is not instant – it takes time, a lot of time, sometimes years and sometimes we will never see the healing completed.
In our parish, we have witnessed the process of these healing prayers from our Mourner’s Path Ministry, the Daughters of the King, our Community of Compassion and our healing services. Many of these are ministries led by the laity. These ministries are impacting the daily life of dozens of people in and outside our parish every day. These ministries are working in the process of healing the suffering of the mind, body, and spirit. These ministries are working in partnership with God and the individual.
Our parish dares to reach out with a healing ministry. Yet, we are not miracle workers. We never suggest that our healing ministry will instantly bring about a cure, heal a troubled mind, or save a lost soul. What we offer is the love of God, the prayer of the people and encouraging words for suffering people to participate in their own healing. Indeed, hard, but worthwhile work. You can receive the prayer needed for healing simply by asking. And you can become a part of our healing ministries by volunteering your time for training and service. Listen to what the Spirit is saying to you. For, I believe we can cry out, “O Lord, I cried to you for help and you healed me,” because we have seen the evidence of such healing in our midst. Amen.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Installation Sermon for Fr Mario Milian
Bishop Frade, Bishop Schofield, Bishop Soto and the people of St. Thomas’, I bring you greetings from Bishop Kirk Smith and the people of the Diocese of Arizona. Fr. Mario, I also bring you special greetings from your many friends in Arizona and especially from the people of St. Matthew’s in Chandler and our good friend the Rev. Dr. John Hall. Bishop Frade, thank you for allowing me to take the pulpit in your diocese and thank you Fr. Mario for your gracious invitation. I am humbled and honored to be here with you on this momentous occasion.
I coached college baseball for twenty years and I spent countless hours watching and recruiting high school and community college players looking for a player like Tim Salmon. I was fortunate to recruit Tim to play for us at Grand Canyon University. He went on to become the American League Rookie of the Year with the Angels and was their right fielder when the Angels won the World Series in 2002. I am often asked if I knew Tim was going to be such a great player. Honestly, no. But, I did know that he was a very special and gifted young man.
I imagine you know how that is – you meet someone and you just know there is something special about him or her. At first, you’re not quite sure what it is, but after awhile this person’s energy, charisma, and character begin to reveal themselves to you.
The first time I met Fr. Mario, I sensed there was something very special about this young priest. He gave off such a positive energy. I came to witness this energy as the presence of the Holy Spirit infused in his life.
It was my great privilege to be present the day Mario and Julie became US citizens. As I watched the ceremony I was reminded of the stories Mario told me about his journey from Cuba, then to Honduras and Arizona. My reflections included Mario’s maturity in being priest to the congregation at St. Matthew’s, many of whom were undocumented immigrants. Arizona is in a firestorm over the issue of immigration. It was and remains a loaded subject. Congregations stand divided over the issue. I learned a great deal from Fr. Mario, listening to him preach and watching him minister to a congregation with many different layers of political views and social needs. His resolve to be a faithful minister of God and to speak the Gospel inspired me, and the congregation at St. Matthew’s. It was obvious, Fr. Mario was speaking out of the power of the presence of the Holy Spirit in his life.
I learned about the ministry of the priesthood from Fr. Mario. He taught me that the role of the priest is to open the window of the church so the people can see God. When we were serving together at St. Matthew’s there were four priests. Each priest had his own interpretation of how to celebrate the Holy Eucharist. One afternoon we got into a lively conversation about “the correct way” of doing things around the altar; really “important” things like when to touch the bread and when to elevate the host and whether to bow or cross oneself – you know the kind of things seminaries spend valuable class time teaching priests and most of the people in the pews could careless about – that kind of “important” conversation. Well, during the debate, Fr. Mario didn’t say much. Afterwards, he and I were alone and I asked him what he thought were the correct ways of celebrating the Eucharist. He told me this; the only thing that really matters is the people are drawn into the holy space of God. The next Sunday I assisted Fr. Mario at our four services, Rite I, Rite II with organ, our contemporary service and the Spanish language service. At each service he celebrated the Eucharist using different actions around the altar of God. That day I witnessed the power of the Holy Spirit covering Fr. Mario – the service was about the people and God. Fr. Mario had stepped out of the way and set his ego down in order for the window of the church to be opened.
Being a priest is like riding a roller coaster. Sundays you can anticipate the high points of the work of God. There are other days when the priest just kind of rides along the bottom of the track, slow and easy. The trouble is, you can never let your guard down.
It was a nice spring morning and Fr. Mario and I were standing in the church office having a cup of coffee, relaxing. The rector’s wife, Jean Hall, burst into the office, panicked, “Do either of you know CPR? Jennifer has collapsed in the bathroom.” We ran down the outside breezeway to where the young mother’s Bible Study class was huddled with their children near the bathroom door. Fr. Mario started trying to comfort and minister to young mothers and children who were obviously frightened.
The class had just ended and Jennifer, not quite eight months pregnant with a three-year-old at foot, had gotten up to go the restroom. A few minutes later another of the young women went to restroom, finding Jennifer collapsed on the floor. When I went into the restroom, I found Fr. John bent over Jennifer giving her CPR. She was already blue.
The paramedics arrived and worked on Jennifer for a while and then wheeled her into an ambulance. Mario and I followed the ambulance to the hospital. Mario and I waited for the family. It wasn’t long before the doctors came into the waiting room to tell us the tragic news that Jennifer had died, but they had taken the baby, who was still alive. The doctors needed to air-evac the baby to the children’s hospital. We went with the family to the ER and offered prayers over Jennifer. Then standing in the hallway, hovered over a small gurney were doctors and nurses. Fr. Mario dipped his finger in a small medicine cup, filled with water, and baptized Colin. Colin’s life was a short eight days – but the effect he had on St. Matthew’s community and the clergy was profound. I can close my eyes and see Fr. Mario’s bless the thimble of water, dip his finger into the cup and touch the water to a baby not as big as Fr. Mario’s hand. It was as if the hand of the Holy Spirit baptized Colin that day.
In the Gospel reading we are told Jesus was filled with the power of the Holy Spirit. This is not the beginning of the story. Jesus was not magically filled with Spirit. He was filled with the Spirit because was obedient to follow the Spirit into the desert of his calling. Jesus was baptized and then spent significant time in the desert listening, praying, and discerning the call of ministry. Then, coming out of the desert, he was filled with the power of the Holy Spirit, the power to bring the good news to the poor, heal the wounded, and liberate the oppressed. The Spirit of God filled Jesus’ soul.
Good people of St. Thomas, the same Spirit of God that filled the soul of Jesus 2,000 years ago, fills the soul of your rector, Fr. Mario. But, that does not mean he can walk on water, feed all the hungry, give water to all the thirsty, clothes the naked, visit all the sick, and those in prison, it does not mean he can embrace every stranger in this land. No - that is your job – because you too are filled with the same Holy Spirit by virtue of your baptism and your commitment to the baptismal covenant. Each of you is called to walk alongside Fr. Mario in ministry to this community, to the kingdom of God.
My spiritual director went on a holiday to Seattle to visit a friend. While he was there, his friend would get up early every morning. Make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches out of two loaves of bread. Then he would take the sandwiches down to a local bridge where the homeless lived and distribute the sandwiches. My spiritual director watched his friend do this for two weeks.
We my spiritual director returned home, he was so moved by his friend’s ministry that he wrote him a check for a large sum. He put a sticky note on the check that read, “For your ministry,” and mailed the check. A week later, my spiritual director received an envelope from his friend. He opened the letter expecting a thank you note, but discovered his check and a sticky note on top of his note reading, “Make your own damn sandwiches.”
Parish ministry is teamwork. Someone has to pitch. Someone has to catch. Someone has to play the other seven positions, each team member doing their own job. We are on the same team. We are wearing the uniform of God, following the directions of Jesus Christ, powered by the Holy Spirit.
St. Thomas, in my humble opinion, you could not have found a better leader than Fr. Mario, for he indeed is filled with the power of the Holy Spirit.
I coached college baseball for twenty years and I spent countless hours watching and recruiting high school and community college players looking for a player like Tim Salmon. I was fortunate to recruit Tim to play for us at Grand Canyon University. He went on to become the American League Rookie of the Year with the Angels and was their right fielder when the Angels won the World Series in 2002. I am often asked if I knew Tim was going to be such a great player. Honestly, no. But, I did know that he was a very special and gifted young man.
I imagine you know how that is – you meet someone and you just know there is something special about him or her. At first, you’re not quite sure what it is, but after awhile this person’s energy, charisma, and character begin to reveal themselves to you.
The first time I met Fr. Mario, I sensed there was something very special about this young priest. He gave off such a positive energy. I came to witness this energy as the presence of the Holy Spirit infused in his life.
It was my great privilege to be present the day Mario and Julie became US citizens. As I watched the ceremony I was reminded of the stories Mario told me about his journey from Cuba, then to Honduras and Arizona. My reflections included Mario’s maturity in being priest to the congregation at St. Matthew’s, many of whom were undocumented immigrants. Arizona is in a firestorm over the issue of immigration. It was and remains a loaded subject. Congregations stand divided over the issue. I learned a great deal from Fr. Mario, listening to him preach and watching him minister to a congregation with many different layers of political views and social needs. His resolve to be a faithful minister of God and to speak the Gospel inspired me, and the congregation at St. Matthew’s. It was obvious, Fr. Mario was speaking out of the power of the presence of the Holy Spirit in his life.
I learned about the ministry of the priesthood from Fr. Mario. He taught me that the role of the priest is to open the window of the church so the people can see God. When we were serving together at St. Matthew’s there were four priests. Each priest had his own interpretation of how to celebrate the Holy Eucharist. One afternoon we got into a lively conversation about “the correct way” of doing things around the altar; really “important” things like when to touch the bread and when to elevate the host and whether to bow or cross oneself – you know the kind of things seminaries spend valuable class time teaching priests and most of the people in the pews could careless about – that kind of “important” conversation. Well, during the debate, Fr. Mario didn’t say much. Afterwards, he and I were alone and I asked him what he thought were the correct ways of celebrating the Eucharist. He told me this; the only thing that really matters is the people are drawn into the holy space of God. The next Sunday I assisted Fr. Mario at our four services, Rite I, Rite II with organ, our contemporary service and the Spanish language service. At each service he celebrated the Eucharist using different actions around the altar of God. That day I witnessed the power of the Holy Spirit covering Fr. Mario – the service was about the people and God. Fr. Mario had stepped out of the way and set his ego down in order for the window of the church to be opened.
Being a priest is like riding a roller coaster. Sundays you can anticipate the high points of the work of God. There are other days when the priest just kind of rides along the bottom of the track, slow and easy. The trouble is, you can never let your guard down.
It was a nice spring morning and Fr. Mario and I were standing in the church office having a cup of coffee, relaxing. The rector’s wife, Jean Hall, burst into the office, panicked, “Do either of you know CPR? Jennifer has collapsed in the bathroom.” We ran down the outside breezeway to where the young mother’s Bible Study class was huddled with their children near the bathroom door. Fr. Mario started trying to comfort and minister to young mothers and children who were obviously frightened.
The class had just ended and Jennifer, not quite eight months pregnant with a three-year-old at foot, had gotten up to go the restroom. A few minutes later another of the young women went to restroom, finding Jennifer collapsed on the floor. When I went into the restroom, I found Fr. John bent over Jennifer giving her CPR. She was already blue.
The paramedics arrived and worked on Jennifer for a while and then wheeled her into an ambulance. Mario and I followed the ambulance to the hospital. Mario and I waited for the family. It wasn’t long before the doctors came into the waiting room to tell us the tragic news that Jennifer had died, but they had taken the baby, who was still alive. The doctors needed to air-evac the baby to the children’s hospital. We went with the family to the ER and offered prayers over Jennifer. Then standing in the hallway, hovered over a small gurney were doctors and nurses. Fr. Mario dipped his finger in a small medicine cup, filled with water, and baptized Colin. Colin’s life was a short eight days – but the effect he had on St. Matthew’s community and the clergy was profound. I can close my eyes and see Fr. Mario’s bless the thimble of water, dip his finger into the cup and touch the water to a baby not as big as Fr. Mario’s hand. It was as if the hand of the Holy Spirit baptized Colin that day.
In the Gospel reading we are told Jesus was filled with the power of the Holy Spirit. This is not the beginning of the story. Jesus was not magically filled with Spirit. He was filled with the Spirit because was obedient to follow the Spirit into the desert of his calling. Jesus was baptized and then spent significant time in the desert listening, praying, and discerning the call of ministry. Then, coming out of the desert, he was filled with the power of the Holy Spirit, the power to bring the good news to the poor, heal the wounded, and liberate the oppressed. The Spirit of God filled Jesus’ soul.
Good people of St. Thomas, the same Spirit of God that filled the soul of Jesus 2,000 years ago, fills the soul of your rector, Fr. Mario. But, that does not mean he can walk on water, feed all the hungry, give water to all the thirsty, clothes the naked, visit all the sick, and those in prison, it does not mean he can embrace every stranger in this land. No - that is your job – because you too are filled with the same Holy Spirit by virtue of your baptism and your commitment to the baptismal covenant. Each of you is called to walk alongside Fr. Mario in ministry to this community, to the kingdom of God.
My spiritual director went on a holiday to Seattle to visit a friend. While he was there, his friend would get up early every morning. Make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches out of two loaves of bread. Then he would take the sandwiches down to a local bridge where the homeless lived and distribute the sandwiches. My spiritual director watched his friend do this for two weeks.
We my spiritual director returned home, he was so moved by his friend’s ministry that he wrote him a check for a large sum. He put a sticky note on the check that read, “For your ministry,” and mailed the check. A week later, my spiritual director received an envelope from his friend. He opened the letter expecting a thank you note, but discovered his check and a sticky note on top of his note reading, “Make your own damn sandwiches.”
Parish ministry is teamwork. Someone has to pitch. Someone has to catch. Someone has to play the other seven positions, each team member doing their own job. We are on the same team. We are wearing the uniform of God, following the directions of Jesus Christ, powered by the Holy Spirit.
St. Thomas, in my humble opinion, you could not have found a better leader than Fr. Mario, for he indeed is filled with the power of the Holy Spirit.
Monday, January 23, 2012
The Pilgrimage of the Labyrinth
I have been meditating and reflecting on Psalm 62 this week, trying to be still and listen to God speaking into my life. Verses five through seven have dominated my attention. “For alone my soul waits in silence, for my hope is from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken. On God, rests my deliverance and my honor; my mighty rock, my refuge is God.” The psalm has three important spiritual markers that have most of my focus at the moment – the soul, the silence, and the rock.
Regarding the soul, I am continuing to explore the fullness of my soul as well as delve into the openness of the soul of God. My interest is where my soul and the soul of God intersect. My latest studies are leading me to conclude that my soul is a part of the cosmic soul of God. The psalm is teaching my soul to wait for God – for God completes me. And in my growing understanding, our souls complete the soul of God. Where do I wait for God? In the silence I wait for God. Where is complete silence? In the stone I find the silent presence of God.
This week I went on a brief retreat at the Redemptorist Renewal Center at Picture Rocks in the Sonoran Desert of Tucson, Arizona. There is a labyrinth on the property, made by volunteers with hundreds of hand-sized stones gathered from the nearby wash. The stones had been here for millions of years before they were called into place as a labyrinth. They will be there millions of years after this retreat center has long been forgotten. The stones are in the memory of God, just as each of us is in the memory of God.
This labyrinth is modeled after the one on the floor of the Cathedral of Notre Dame de Chartes built between 1193 and 1250 A.D. Some labyrinths have discovered that are over 3,000 years old. The labyrinth in Glendalough, Ireland is the shape of a womb and was built in the fifth century. The labyrinth of Chartes is a large circle, thirty feet in diameter. Around the outside circle are 128 half-moons representing the lunar cycle. The labyrinth is divided into quarters, the seasons of life. As you enter the labyrinth, you walk a serpentine path towards the center, the womb. It’s not a maze, you cannot get lost. The labyrinth represents the pilgrimage of life.
On the most pleasant of desert February afternoons I began to pray the labyrinth. I asked God to speak, I promised to listen. My walking further ensconced the depth of prayer and path. A few turns into my prayers I began to recognize the stones of the labyrinth path to be representative of the people I encounter in my life as spiritual director, pastor, and priest. Each person is the creation of God and placed along this path for a specific reason and purpose, at a specific place and time.
As I walk and pray, I begin to pay close attention to each stone, some grey, some reddish, some green, some blue, some white, some flat, some rounder than others, some random shaped, some have on them what appears to be a design, some are some smooth, some are jagged; the stones as varied as the individuals I see daily.
I walk the labyrinth carefully, acknowledging each stone, recognizing the vision of the face of each person I see. Offering a pray for each stone and each person. But I am careful not to disturb the stone. At some points on the labyrinth, especially at the turns, a walker making a corner too sharp has disturbed a stone. I stop, speak to the stone and ask it if it wants to be returned to place on the path. This particular stone acknowledged my presence and affirmed its desire to be in it original position. Gently, not lifting the stone, but carefully, I nudged it back into its intended place. This is my job as the spiritual director leader of this community.
As I left the labyrinth, I turned to face the path of stones, made the Trinitarian sign of the Cross, bowed, and offered the salutation, Namaste, the God in me recognizes the God in you.
A few yards away there was a sign, admonishing people to stay off the small hill of rocks that overlooked the labyrinth. A smaller sign warned people to deface any of the petroglyphs would result in prosecution. I walked a few yards around the path at the base of the hill and saw the petroglyphs, about twenty feet above my head. The carvings were most likely the work of the Hohoham people about 1100 A.D.
A few drawing depicted animals and birds. One petroglyph depicted the hierophant, priest, or shaman (known by the staff) was kneeling holding the head of an animal, possibly the shaman’s spirit animal. The main etching was on the largest flat surface in the center of the face of the hill facing the western sun. It was the drawing of a spiral. Similar to the spiral etching I have encountered at the Newgrange, the ancient Irish burial mound, over 3,000 years old.
Encircling the spiral were the drawings of people holding hands. Speculation is that the people, following the lead of their shaman, are dancing around the hill and offering their prayers. Most of the petroglyphs are dark and fresh, as if they were drawn yesterday. However, the spiral is worn, as if the people were dancing up the hill to rub their hands across the great spiral.
The spiral is positioned perfectly under another large stone so that, facing the Western Sun, on the solstice – equinox a sun sword moves is pointed exactly at the center of the spiral. As the sun moves across the spiral, the sun sword moves like a clock hand across the bottom of the spiral.
It was obvious to me that my labyrinth prayer and the prayer of the Hohokam a thousand years ago are connected. All of us God’s creation praying in the mystery of the circle of life and all praying across the same stones, created eons before our existence. The eternal connection was deeply felt in the silence of soul. I bowed once again, the God in me recognizes the God in the Hohokam people and their holy site.
In order for my soul to wait in the silence of the stones for God I must practice. I must have a practice that allows me to connect with my soul. To be silent, I must have a regular practice where silence is the intention. And to hear the silence of the stones speak the God I must have a practice that moves me into the presence of God’s creation, the stones.
I am not suggesting you adopt my spiritual practices. I am, though, encouraging to have spiritual practices that bring into the presence of the scripture, prayer, nature, and God. For without a spiritual practice you will be missing a multitude of experiences with the divine. Amen.
Regarding the soul, I am continuing to explore the fullness of my soul as well as delve into the openness of the soul of God. My interest is where my soul and the soul of God intersect. My latest studies are leading me to conclude that my soul is a part of the cosmic soul of God. The psalm is teaching my soul to wait for God – for God completes me. And in my growing understanding, our souls complete the soul of God. Where do I wait for God? In the silence I wait for God. Where is complete silence? In the stone I find the silent presence of God.
This week I went on a brief retreat at the Redemptorist Renewal Center at Picture Rocks in the Sonoran Desert of Tucson, Arizona. There is a labyrinth on the property, made by volunteers with hundreds of hand-sized stones gathered from the nearby wash. The stones had been here for millions of years before they were called into place as a labyrinth. They will be there millions of years after this retreat center has long been forgotten. The stones are in the memory of God, just as each of us is in the memory of God.
This labyrinth is modeled after the one on the floor of the Cathedral of Notre Dame de Chartes built between 1193 and 1250 A.D. Some labyrinths have discovered that are over 3,000 years old. The labyrinth in Glendalough, Ireland is the shape of a womb and was built in the fifth century. The labyrinth of Chartes is a large circle, thirty feet in diameter. Around the outside circle are 128 half-moons representing the lunar cycle. The labyrinth is divided into quarters, the seasons of life. As you enter the labyrinth, you walk a serpentine path towards the center, the womb. It’s not a maze, you cannot get lost. The labyrinth represents the pilgrimage of life.
On the most pleasant of desert February afternoons I began to pray the labyrinth. I asked God to speak, I promised to listen. My walking further ensconced the depth of prayer and path. A few turns into my prayers I began to recognize the stones of the labyrinth path to be representative of the people I encounter in my life as spiritual director, pastor, and priest. Each person is the creation of God and placed along this path for a specific reason and purpose, at a specific place and time.
As I walk and pray, I begin to pay close attention to each stone, some grey, some reddish, some green, some blue, some white, some flat, some rounder than others, some random shaped, some have on them what appears to be a design, some are some smooth, some are jagged; the stones as varied as the individuals I see daily.
I walk the labyrinth carefully, acknowledging each stone, recognizing the vision of the face of each person I see. Offering a pray for each stone and each person. But I am careful not to disturb the stone. At some points on the labyrinth, especially at the turns, a walker making a corner too sharp has disturbed a stone. I stop, speak to the stone and ask it if it wants to be returned to place on the path. This particular stone acknowledged my presence and affirmed its desire to be in it original position. Gently, not lifting the stone, but carefully, I nudged it back into its intended place. This is my job as the spiritual director leader of this community.
As I left the labyrinth, I turned to face the path of stones, made the Trinitarian sign of the Cross, bowed, and offered the salutation, Namaste, the God in me recognizes the God in you.
A few yards away there was a sign, admonishing people to stay off the small hill of rocks that overlooked the labyrinth. A smaller sign warned people to deface any of the petroglyphs would result in prosecution. I walked a few yards around the path at the base of the hill and saw the petroglyphs, about twenty feet above my head. The carvings were most likely the work of the Hohoham people about 1100 A.D.
A few drawing depicted animals and birds. One petroglyph depicted the hierophant, priest, or shaman (known by the staff) was kneeling holding the head of an animal, possibly the shaman’s spirit animal. The main etching was on the largest flat surface in the center of the face of the hill facing the western sun. It was the drawing of a spiral. Similar to the spiral etching I have encountered at the Newgrange, the ancient Irish burial mound, over 3,000 years old.
Encircling the spiral were the drawings of people holding hands. Speculation is that the people, following the lead of their shaman, are dancing around the hill and offering their prayers. Most of the petroglyphs are dark and fresh, as if they were drawn yesterday. However, the spiral is worn, as if the people were dancing up the hill to rub their hands across the great spiral.
The spiral is positioned perfectly under another large stone so that, facing the Western Sun, on the solstice – equinox a sun sword moves is pointed exactly at the center of the spiral. As the sun moves across the spiral, the sun sword moves like a clock hand across the bottom of the spiral.
It was obvious to me that my labyrinth prayer and the prayer of the Hohokam a thousand years ago are connected. All of us God’s creation praying in the mystery of the circle of life and all praying across the same stones, created eons before our existence. The eternal connection was deeply felt in the silence of soul. I bowed once again, the God in me recognizes the God in the Hohokam people and their holy site.
In order for my soul to wait in the silence of the stones for God I must practice. I must have a practice that allows me to connect with my soul. To be silent, I must have a regular practice where silence is the intention. And to hear the silence of the stones speak the God I must have a practice that moves me into the presence of God’s creation, the stones.
I am not suggesting you adopt my spiritual practices. I am, though, encouraging to have spiritual practices that bring into the presence of the scripture, prayer, nature, and God. For without a spiritual practice you will be missing a multitude of experiences with the divine. Amen.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Sheep in the Manger?
Have you ever wondered why there are sheep in the manger scene? Let me tell you the story.
In a land far, far away, a magical birth happened on a night like this, a thousand moons ago.
Just outside of a town called Bethlehem, perched on tiny rocky hill, there were two boys, keeping watch over their tiny flock of sheep. Malachi was twelve-years-old and Jacob was ten. This was their first night to tend the flock alone. Their father, Ezra had great trust in his two sons. He had given them the responsibility to protect the nine ewes and six lambs. These precious sheep were all that their family owned. Without the sheep, Ezra would not have any way to provide for his family. Malachi and Jacob were so proud that their father had put them in charge of the sheep this very night.
Malachi had learned from his father all that he needed to know about caring for the sheep. He had spent most of his days and many nights with his father tending the flock. Now, his father had decided that it was Malachi’s time to take a full share in the family business.
Being the older brother, Malachi decided to keep the first watch. Jacob snuggled up against Neddy, the oldest momma sheep. Neddy’s soft wool would keep Jacob warm through the cold night.
The sky was filled with thousands of crackly stars. Malachi even saw a falling star and he prayed that such an event would bring good blessings this most important night of his life.
Malachi was getting cold so he got up and walked around the small hill. He rubbed his shoulders and legs to create some warmth. He pulled is arms inside his tunic to feel the soft inner shirt his mother had made for him this spring because he was growing so tall. One of the lambs had followed Malachi. It made him smile. He picked up the small lamb, placed it on his shoulders and moved quietly back to the fold. The lamb’s mother had her head up, smelling for her young one. Malachi slid the lamb off his shoulders into the nestling of the ewe.
Malachi returned to his perch so that he see over the sheep and down onto the town of Bethlehem. He knew every family and every house and every stable of his hometown. His great grandfather had come to Bethlehem years ago with his new wife and three sheep. His great grandfather, grandfather, and father had sat on this same hill with their sheep. Now it was his turn.
The night was growing long and Malachi’s eyes grew heavy. He fought against sleep by counting the stars, but that made his eyes even more weary. He began to recite the prayers of King David, the first shepherd of the tribe. “Bless the Lord O my soul, bless his holy name. Bless the Lord O my soul, and forget not his benefits,” Malachi whispered.
Then, with a sudden movement, the nose of every mother sheep shot into the air. It startled Malachi to see such a strange thing. A wolf, he thought. He jumped to his feet and peered across the crevices of the rocky hill looking for any movement. Neddy stood waking Jacob. The sleepy little boy rubbed his eyes.
“Jacob, I think there’s a wolf near about,” Malachi said. But Jacob saw what had disturbed the sheep. It was so large and so mysterious and so magical that he could not open his mouth, he could only point to the figure floating in the air behind his brother.
Malachi turned to see a translucent figure hovering just a few feet from where the boys stood. Frightened, Jacob clung to his brother. The sheep stood, moving closer to Malachi.
What Malachi saw, he would later tell his father, was something that was as bright as a star, as clear as the water in the brook, as warm as the red coals of the cooking fire, as powerful as a Roman soldier, and yet as gentle as a newborn lamb.
“Who, what are you?” Malachi’s voice cracked.
“Don’t be afraid, shepherds. I am the angel of the Lord.”
Jacob let go of his brother and tentatively moved towards the angel. Malachi put his hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “An angel?” Jacob questioned.
“Yes, the angel of the Lord. My name is Gabriel and I am the Lord’s messenger. I have come to tell you that a special child is born this night in Bethlehem. His name is Jesus, born to Mary. He will be the savior of your people. He will be called Immanuel.”
“Here, in Bethlehem?” Malachi questioned. “Why would the Messiah be born in such a poor little village?”
“The child has been born to bring peace into the world, Malachi. This is kind of peace you felt when carrying the lamb back to its mother. Jacob, this is the kind of peace you felt sleeping next to Neddy. The child will bring this kind of peace into the hearts of every person. The child is born here in Bethlehem in order to fulfill the promise of peace. He must know the peace that can only felt here, in this village,” the angel Gabriel said.
Malachi started with another question but the angel interrupted. “Malachi, you and Jacob must go and see the child. You must bring the peace in your hearts so that Mary and the child can sense that know why he is being born in Bethlehem.”
“Our father has put us in charge and we cannot leave the sheep,” Malachi said.
“Do not leave the sheep,” the angel said. “Take them with you so that they may see the child.”
“No one lets sheep into their house,” Jacob said in order to inform the angel how the people in Bethlehem lived.
“Oh, the baby is not born in a house,” the angel said. “The child Jesus is born in a lowly stable, behind the Inn. The sheep will be welcomed by the other animals there.”
“We can’t do this. Our father expects us to keep the sheep here until the morning when he returns.”
“That may be so,” the angel said chuckling. “But I think you had better follow your sheep in town or else you are the ones that will be left here alone.”
The two young shepherds turned to see Neddy, the wisest of the sheep, leading the rest of the flock down the hill. The sheep understood the angel. They knew they would see the Messiah, the savior of the world. They knew that the baby Jesus would be the Lamb of God, the Good Shepherd. And they so wanted to be near this child who would bring peace to the world.
Malachi and Jacob followed Neddy and the small flock to the Inn where they found Mary and the baby Jesus. The sheep would lie down at the foot of the manger and the lambs nuzzled the baby. When Malachi and Jacob saw the baby, they truly felt the peace of the Lord spoken of by the angel.
And that’s the story of how sheep were to be found in the manger of baby Jesus. That is a story of peace.
In a land far, far away, a magical birth happened on a night like this, a thousand moons ago.
Just outside of a town called Bethlehem, perched on tiny rocky hill, there were two boys, keeping watch over their tiny flock of sheep. Malachi was twelve-years-old and Jacob was ten. This was their first night to tend the flock alone. Their father, Ezra had great trust in his two sons. He had given them the responsibility to protect the nine ewes and six lambs. These precious sheep were all that their family owned. Without the sheep, Ezra would not have any way to provide for his family. Malachi and Jacob were so proud that their father had put them in charge of the sheep this very night.
Malachi had learned from his father all that he needed to know about caring for the sheep. He had spent most of his days and many nights with his father tending the flock. Now, his father had decided that it was Malachi’s time to take a full share in the family business.
Being the older brother, Malachi decided to keep the first watch. Jacob snuggled up against Neddy, the oldest momma sheep. Neddy’s soft wool would keep Jacob warm through the cold night.
The sky was filled with thousands of crackly stars. Malachi even saw a falling star and he prayed that such an event would bring good blessings this most important night of his life.
Malachi was getting cold so he got up and walked around the small hill. He rubbed his shoulders and legs to create some warmth. He pulled is arms inside his tunic to feel the soft inner shirt his mother had made for him this spring because he was growing so tall. One of the lambs had followed Malachi. It made him smile. He picked up the small lamb, placed it on his shoulders and moved quietly back to the fold. The lamb’s mother had her head up, smelling for her young one. Malachi slid the lamb off his shoulders into the nestling of the ewe.
Malachi returned to his perch so that he see over the sheep and down onto the town of Bethlehem. He knew every family and every house and every stable of his hometown. His great grandfather had come to Bethlehem years ago with his new wife and three sheep. His great grandfather, grandfather, and father had sat on this same hill with their sheep. Now it was his turn.
The night was growing long and Malachi’s eyes grew heavy. He fought against sleep by counting the stars, but that made his eyes even more weary. He began to recite the prayers of King David, the first shepherd of the tribe. “Bless the Lord O my soul, bless his holy name. Bless the Lord O my soul, and forget not his benefits,” Malachi whispered.
Then, with a sudden movement, the nose of every mother sheep shot into the air. It startled Malachi to see such a strange thing. A wolf, he thought. He jumped to his feet and peered across the crevices of the rocky hill looking for any movement. Neddy stood waking Jacob. The sleepy little boy rubbed his eyes.
“Jacob, I think there’s a wolf near about,” Malachi said. But Jacob saw what had disturbed the sheep. It was so large and so mysterious and so magical that he could not open his mouth, he could only point to the figure floating in the air behind his brother.
Malachi turned to see a translucent figure hovering just a few feet from where the boys stood. Frightened, Jacob clung to his brother. The sheep stood, moving closer to Malachi.
What Malachi saw, he would later tell his father, was something that was as bright as a star, as clear as the water in the brook, as warm as the red coals of the cooking fire, as powerful as a Roman soldier, and yet as gentle as a newborn lamb.
“Who, what are you?” Malachi’s voice cracked.
“Don’t be afraid, shepherds. I am the angel of the Lord.”
Jacob let go of his brother and tentatively moved towards the angel. Malachi put his hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “An angel?” Jacob questioned.
“Yes, the angel of the Lord. My name is Gabriel and I am the Lord’s messenger. I have come to tell you that a special child is born this night in Bethlehem. His name is Jesus, born to Mary. He will be the savior of your people. He will be called Immanuel.”
“Here, in Bethlehem?” Malachi questioned. “Why would the Messiah be born in such a poor little village?”
“The child has been born to bring peace into the world, Malachi. This is kind of peace you felt when carrying the lamb back to its mother. Jacob, this is the kind of peace you felt sleeping next to Neddy. The child will bring this kind of peace into the hearts of every person. The child is born here in Bethlehem in order to fulfill the promise of peace. He must know the peace that can only felt here, in this village,” the angel Gabriel said.
Malachi started with another question but the angel interrupted. “Malachi, you and Jacob must go and see the child. You must bring the peace in your hearts so that Mary and the child can sense that know why he is being born in Bethlehem.”
“Our father has put us in charge and we cannot leave the sheep,” Malachi said.
“Do not leave the sheep,” the angel said. “Take them with you so that they may see the child.”
“No one lets sheep into their house,” Jacob said in order to inform the angel how the people in Bethlehem lived.
“Oh, the baby is not born in a house,” the angel said. “The child Jesus is born in a lowly stable, behind the Inn. The sheep will be welcomed by the other animals there.”
“We can’t do this. Our father expects us to keep the sheep here until the morning when he returns.”
“That may be so,” the angel said chuckling. “But I think you had better follow your sheep in town or else you are the ones that will be left here alone.”
The two young shepherds turned to see Neddy, the wisest of the sheep, leading the rest of the flock down the hill. The sheep understood the angel. They knew they would see the Messiah, the savior of the world. They knew that the baby Jesus would be the Lamb of God, the Good Shepherd. And they so wanted to be near this child who would bring peace to the world.
Malachi and Jacob followed Neddy and the small flock to the Inn where they found Mary and the baby Jesus. The sheep would lie down at the foot of the manger and the lambs nuzzled the baby. When Malachi and Jacob saw the baby, they truly felt the peace of the Lord spoken of by the angel.
And that’s the story of how sheep were to be found in the manger of baby Jesus. That is a story of peace.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Lisa Fry's Ordination
Lisa Fry’s Ordination 12.19.11
St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, Little Rock, Arkansas
I bring you greeting from Bishop Kirk Smith, of the Diocese of Arizona. Lisa, I am humbled by your gracious invitation to preach at your ordination. Thank you Fr. Schieffler and Bishop Benfield for allowing me to take the pulpit in your parish and the Diocese of Arkansas.
Tonight we have a very interesting ordination. Lisa, of course is being ordained. Though, before tonight, she has been a clergy spouse. And Greg her husband, a priest, well now he is clergy spouse as well. So, that makes Lisa and Greg both priests and clergy spouses.
Zoe, I offer my condolences that both your parents are now priests and clergy spouses. My prayers are with you.
Lisa, I can see why you have fallen in love with this St. Mark’s and believe it to be such a good fit for you. St. Mark’s vision, “Seek to be a vibrant community of people who worship weekly, pray daily, learn constantly, serve joyfully and live generously,” could be the very words to describe you.
Lisa is a cradle-born Episcopalian. Her love of our liturgy and prayer is profound. She has been shaped throughout her life by the worship of the Episcopal Church. Lisa has studied, analyzed, and imagined new ways to bring fresh life to our liturgy and worship. She will bring her gifts of music, theater, imagination and creativity to the altar as she celebrates the Eucharist with the Church.
Lisa has been a lifelong learner. The past two years, the learning curve has been steep for her. She has had to reimagine and reinvent herself in many ways. She has worked hard to enliven her sermons. I read her recent Advent 2 sermon and she told three stories. That’s impressive. Her sermon reminds me of her preaching at St. Augustine’s where she served for eighteen months. She told stories of her childhood, her dreams and she even tried to explain the Trinity using a banana. If she tries that here, let me know how it went.
During Lisa’s preparation for the priesthood in the Diocese of Arizona, she had to reaffirm her theological training through mini-courses and tests and she had to consider new ways of leadership. She sacrificed family time, sleep and emotion over the twenty-six week trial of hospital chaplaincy; in my humble opinion, few experiences shape future priests as that of the training gained through Clinical Pastoral Education. Through her experience she shared stories of tragedy, heartbreak and joy. CPE formed Lisa’s life.
And still in all this, knowing Lisa, I am sure she is still hungry to learn from you, St. Mark’s.
Lisa truly serves with joy. Her smile fills the room and her laughter lightens the heart. Her willingness to serve embodies the example of Jesus on Maundy Thursday. I have witnessed Lisa take on new ministry challenges and face the frustration found in such endeavors and then celebrate the joy of success in the same project. She has been willing to take on the risks of service.
And Lisa lives generously. She lives full speed, full throttle, and holding little in reserve. Fr. Danny, you may need to remind her to take her day off and to just do nothing.
Lisa you are bringing your gifts, skills, talents and passion as a priest - to God, the Episcopal Church, this Diocese and to St. Mark’s. You have much to give. And much still to learn, for the formation of a priest is the lifelong work of God and the priest partnered together for the life of the Church and God’s people. Go slow and take time to breathe and listen to the sweet silence found in the presence of the Holy Spirit.
By your life you are to be an example to the people of God. Your example of walking slowly, taking time to breathe and the courage to sit in the presence of haunting silence will inspire the people, and frankly it will frighten them as well.
You see, when you bring your giftedness into the realm of the priesthood, God’s formation works on you, and the people, in a unique way. For when God does God’s work through the life of the priest, God will also form the community. God’s formation process will cause the sensation of struggle, question, doubt and resistance in your life and in the life of the community. This is a given. Look at the stories of the saints, Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Rebekah, Jacob, Rachel and Leah, David, Ruth, Esther, Mary, Mary Magdalene, the apostles and of course Jesus. Never be afraid to step into the formative fire, for what will result in the fire of your formation is the beautiful creative artistic work of God. You are continually being made into God’s holy vessel.
My humble counsel to you is that you write the words of the Philippians text you selected for this evening, on your heart; just love the people, be gentle, instead of worrying, pray – trust God and think about God’s blessings. And – keep on doing the things you have learned and received and heard from God; for it is God’s peace that will sustain you in your ministry.
May God bless you and pour out the power of her Holy Spirit upon your life and ministry. Amen.
St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, Little Rock, Arkansas
I bring you greeting from Bishop Kirk Smith, of the Diocese of Arizona. Lisa, I am humbled by your gracious invitation to preach at your ordination. Thank you Fr. Schieffler and Bishop Benfield for allowing me to take the pulpit in your parish and the Diocese of Arkansas.
Tonight we have a very interesting ordination. Lisa, of course is being ordained. Though, before tonight, she has been a clergy spouse. And Greg her husband, a priest, well now he is clergy spouse as well. So, that makes Lisa and Greg both priests and clergy spouses.
Zoe, I offer my condolences that both your parents are now priests and clergy spouses. My prayers are with you.
Lisa, I can see why you have fallen in love with this St. Mark’s and believe it to be such a good fit for you. St. Mark’s vision, “Seek to be a vibrant community of people who worship weekly, pray daily, learn constantly, serve joyfully and live generously,” could be the very words to describe you.
Lisa is a cradle-born Episcopalian. Her love of our liturgy and prayer is profound. She has been shaped throughout her life by the worship of the Episcopal Church. Lisa has studied, analyzed, and imagined new ways to bring fresh life to our liturgy and worship. She will bring her gifts of music, theater, imagination and creativity to the altar as she celebrates the Eucharist with the Church.
Lisa has been a lifelong learner. The past two years, the learning curve has been steep for her. She has had to reimagine and reinvent herself in many ways. She has worked hard to enliven her sermons. I read her recent Advent 2 sermon and she told three stories. That’s impressive. Her sermon reminds me of her preaching at St. Augustine’s where she served for eighteen months. She told stories of her childhood, her dreams and she even tried to explain the Trinity using a banana. If she tries that here, let me know how it went.
During Lisa’s preparation for the priesthood in the Diocese of Arizona, she had to reaffirm her theological training through mini-courses and tests and she had to consider new ways of leadership. She sacrificed family time, sleep and emotion over the twenty-six week trial of hospital chaplaincy; in my humble opinion, few experiences shape future priests as that of the training gained through Clinical Pastoral Education. Through her experience she shared stories of tragedy, heartbreak and joy. CPE formed Lisa’s life.
And still in all this, knowing Lisa, I am sure she is still hungry to learn from you, St. Mark’s.
Lisa truly serves with joy. Her smile fills the room and her laughter lightens the heart. Her willingness to serve embodies the example of Jesus on Maundy Thursday. I have witnessed Lisa take on new ministry challenges and face the frustration found in such endeavors and then celebrate the joy of success in the same project. She has been willing to take on the risks of service.
And Lisa lives generously. She lives full speed, full throttle, and holding little in reserve. Fr. Danny, you may need to remind her to take her day off and to just do nothing.
Lisa you are bringing your gifts, skills, talents and passion as a priest - to God, the Episcopal Church, this Diocese and to St. Mark’s. You have much to give. And much still to learn, for the formation of a priest is the lifelong work of God and the priest partnered together for the life of the Church and God’s people. Go slow and take time to breathe and listen to the sweet silence found in the presence of the Holy Spirit.
By your life you are to be an example to the people of God. Your example of walking slowly, taking time to breathe and the courage to sit in the presence of haunting silence will inspire the people, and frankly it will frighten them as well.
You see, when you bring your giftedness into the realm of the priesthood, God’s formation works on you, and the people, in a unique way. For when God does God’s work through the life of the priest, God will also form the community. God’s formation process will cause the sensation of struggle, question, doubt and resistance in your life and in the life of the community. This is a given. Look at the stories of the saints, Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Rebekah, Jacob, Rachel and Leah, David, Ruth, Esther, Mary, Mary Magdalene, the apostles and of course Jesus. Never be afraid to step into the formative fire, for what will result in the fire of your formation is the beautiful creative artistic work of God. You are continually being made into God’s holy vessel.
My humble counsel to you is that you write the words of the Philippians text you selected for this evening, on your heart; just love the people, be gentle, instead of worrying, pray – trust God and think about God’s blessings. And – keep on doing the things you have learned and received and heard from God; for it is God’s peace that will sustain you in your ministry.
May God bless you and pour out the power of her Holy Spirit upon your life and ministry. Amen.
God's Little Secret
Dinah, my sister, has Prader-Willi, a form of physical and mental disability caused by a deformity of Chromosome-15. One of my sister’s problems, unrelated to being Prader-Willi, is that she has a very limited ability to talk. This is due primarily to brain damage caused by a fever of 107 degrees during the first few weeks of life. Now, 56, she has a vocabulary of approximately 20-40 words. During the last ten years, her vocabulary and ability to communicate has increased significantly. I believe this marked improvement is the result of her participating in an art program. She draws, paints, and does ceramics, tie-dye, and latches rugs. In other words, she has accessed the artist that resides within her soul. By accessing her artistic side, she has opened new neuro-pathways that have increased her communication skills. (Granted this is my opinion and not scientific evidence).
Encouraging someone to access their inner artist is a tool often used by spiritual directors. I think everyone is at least a little bit of an artist within their being; they can paint, draw, write, play music, dance, garden, build, sculpt, tell stories, there are as many modes of art as there is an imagination to create.
Artistry can be the krater, the mixing vessel, of the soul. The krater, or the alchemical vas, is the vessel of spiritual transformation. It also is a feminine principle, like the uterus of spiritual renewal and rebirth.
So, this morning we hear the story of the angel Gabriel telling Mary that she is going to be the mother of Jesus, Immanuel God who lives among us.
This is a glorious story of Mary being willing to be the vessel of God. She will bring forth a son, the son of spiritual transformation. Historically, we have been told that the majesty of the story resides in God’s willingness to send God’s son, Jesus, to be the redeemer and savior of the world. In other words, Jesus’ birth into the world will be the cause of our spiritual rebirth.
But, what if for a moment, we thought about Jesus’ birth, as also being about God’s transformation? What if the birth womb of Mary was the story of God’s desire of seeking a renewed and rebirthed spiritual relationship with the creation? What if this story is also about God re-entering the ultimate story of creation, the feminine process of birth, to create a new story of God?
We know all too well the story of the irascible God of the Hebrew scripture. We are painfully familiar with the story of the God of punishment and judgment. We cringe at the story of the God who appears to love people one moment and then punish the people in the next scene of the story.
What if the story of the birth of Jesus is the story of God’s willingness to re-enter the vessel of spiritual transformation to be reborn as the humble, self-sacrificing God of unconditional love and unconditional forgiveness?
St. Paul writes in his letter to the Romans, “Now to God who is able to strengthen you according to my gospel and the proclamation of Jesus Christ, according to the revelation of the mystery that was kept secret for long ages but is now disclosed, and through prophetic writings is made known to all the Gentiles, according to the command of the eternal God, to bring about the obedience of faith – to the only wise God, through Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory forever! Amen.”
What if Paul’s writings about “the secret of the ages” are the story of God’s rebirth through the Incarnation of Jesus Christ? What if this secret is that God is the God of love and mercy, who brings power into the world through powerlessness and strength through sacrifice, and life through death. What if this secret is about God, who discovers wisdom through a child born in a manger, and maturity from a twelve-year-old boy teaching the elders in the synagogue? What if this secret is that God is willing to come into the world through the humility of a baby? What if the secret is that God, speaks through the greatest prophet, teacher and mystic, Jesus, who is born of a young girl, Mary.
But, the radical scandal of the story of God, Mary and Jesus does not end with the transformation of God – no, the same story of God extends to our own creative transformation.
Mary is our archetypal artist who creates in the krater of the body and the soul. What new vision of God will be birthed from our krater? What unknown alchemical substances only reside in our artistic soul? What creative force can be birthed by our soul, and our soul alone?
We are a part of the Trinitarian formula. God + Mary = Jesus. Now, it is God + Me = a new creative image of God.
Let me ask you to consider this; what if the gift you are to give this Christmas, is a gift that only you can give to the world. And what if this unique and precious gift can only be created by your intimate relationship with God? And what if this gift, that only you are able to give, is actually a new vision of God? Are you able to believe the angel Gabriel who says that, “nothing is impossible with God”? Are you willing to say, as Mary did, “here I am, the servant of God, willing to create and birth something entirely new”?
Like Mary, and like my sister, I have to wonder, “What new creation of God can we discover within the artistic vessel of our soul”? Well, we can only find out, if we are willing to be an artist. With God’s help, let’s see what we can create this Christmas.
Encouraging someone to access their inner artist is a tool often used by spiritual directors. I think everyone is at least a little bit of an artist within their being; they can paint, draw, write, play music, dance, garden, build, sculpt, tell stories, there are as many modes of art as there is an imagination to create.
Artistry can be the krater, the mixing vessel, of the soul. The krater, or the alchemical vas, is the vessel of spiritual transformation. It also is a feminine principle, like the uterus of spiritual renewal and rebirth.
So, this morning we hear the story of the angel Gabriel telling Mary that she is going to be the mother of Jesus, Immanuel God who lives among us.
This is a glorious story of Mary being willing to be the vessel of God. She will bring forth a son, the son of spiritual transformation. Historically, we have been told that the majesty of the story resides in God’s willingness to send God’s son, Jesus, to be the redeemer and savior of the world. In other words, Jesus’ birth into the world will be the cause of our spiritual rebirth.
But, what if for a moment, we thought about Jesus’ birth, as also being about God’s transformation? What if the birth womb of Mary was the story of God’s desire of seeking a renewed and rebirthed spiritual relationship with the creation? What if this story is also about God re-entering the ultimate story of creation, the feminine process of birth, to create a new story of God?
We know all too well the story of the irascible God of the Hebrew scripture. We are painfully familiar with the story of the God of punishment and judgment. We cringe at the story of the God who appears to love people one moment and then punish the people in the next scene of the story.
What if the story of the birth of Jesus is the story of God’s willingness to re-enter the vessel of spiritual transformation to be reborn as the humble, self-sacrificing God of unconditional love and unconditional forgiveness?
St. Paul writes in his letter to the Romans, “Now to God who is able to strengthen you according to my gospel and the proclamation of Jesus Christ, according to the revelation of the mystery that was kept secret for long ages but is now disclosed, and through prophetic writings is made known to all the Gentiles, according to the command of the eternal God, to bring about the obedience of faith – to the only wise God, through Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory forever! Amen.”
What if Paul’s writings about “the secret of the ages” are the story of God’s rebirth through the Incarnation of Jesus Christ? What if this secret is that God is the God of love and mercy, who brings power into the world through powerlessness and strength through sacrifice, and life through death. What if this secret is about God, who discovers wisdom through a child born in a manger, and maturity from a twelve-year-old boy teaching the elders in the synagogue? What if this secret is that God is willing to come into the world through the humility of a baby? What if the secret is that God, speaks through the greatest prophet, teacher and mystic, Jesus, who is born of a young girl, Mary.
But, the radical scandal of the story of God, Mary and Jesus does not end with the transformation of God – no, the same story of God extends to our own creative transformation.
Mary is our archetypal artist who creates in the krater of the body and the soul. What new vision of God will be birthed from our krater? What unknown alchemical substances only reside in our artistic soul? What creative force can be birthed by our soul, and our soul alone?
We are a part of the Trinitarian formula. God + Mary = Jesus. Now, it is God + Me = a new creative image of God.
Let me ask you to consider this; what if the gift you are to give this Christmas, is a gift that only you can give to the world. And what if this unique and precious gift can only be created by your intimate relationship with God? And what if this gift, that only you are able to give, is actually a new vision of God? Are you able to believe the angel Gabriel who says that, “nothing is impossible with God”? Are you willing to say, as Mary did, “here I am, the servant of God, willing to create and birth something entirely new”?
Like Mary, and like my sister, I have to wonder, “What new creation of God can we discover within the artistic vessel of our soul”? Well, we can only find out, if we are willing to be an artist. With God’s help, let’s see what we can create this Christmas.
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